


Solace Sought

by RogueLioness



Series: Thedosian Tales [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Other, Sad, that's it i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 04:24:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8431732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueLioness/pseuds/RogueLioness
Summary: Her smile disappeared as her world fell, and no matter how hard he tries he can never bring it back.





	

The end, when it came, came all too quickly.

The world as it was ended with a mutinous, rebellious roar, a raging inferno drowned out by a deluge. His kind watched the chaos with a fearful glee; rejoicing that the humans who had once been their plague were ended, fearful of the Dread Wolf’s wrath that caused the world to burn.

And in the flames and the smoke and the soot, he saw her face.

_The return of my people means the end of yours._

He’d kept that promise.

When what had been lay scattered around in dust and ashes, he began to rebuild. His brethren he released one at a time, stealing their blood and breath and crushing, grinding their bones. He was merciless; how could he be anything but when the one spark of light in his now-cold heart had been ripped to shreds by his hand?

He would not make the same mistake again. He would carry the stench of blood and sacrifice so that no one else would have to.

From the worn ruins rose a civilization once more, forged from the best of his world and the best of hers. He who eschewed thrones and claims to godhood now held both, his hands stained with blood.

In the beginning, he’s afforded no time for memories; there’s too much work to be done, too many hopes and dreams to reclaim, too many wonders to restore. But the Fade now shimmered and tingled with half-formed dreams, taking on shadowy shapes and forms of people who lived half-lives, interfering with his vision, clashing with his ability to reshape the boundaries of the world he once lived and breathed in.

He summons Mythal’s power to disperse them. It is a sacrifice he must make; he cannot have their interference.

Now even the spirits fear him.

It’s ironic that there is no one in this world - in his world - who does not fear him, and he begins to understand that it is his fate now and forever - Dread Wolf. 

It’s ironic that the only one who called him that and refused to fear him is long gone, her ashes mingled with the dirt his people walk on.

It’s ironic that when he reshapes the world, he does so with her ideas in his mind, with memories of her thoughts threaded through his imagination.

It’s ironic that he cannot picture her clearly.

When the world is done, and there’s no need for him, he retires to the place where the last speck of her remains. It is no longer _tarasyl’an tel’as_ , it is no longer Skyhold, it is just another ruined fortress of crumbled stone. 

When he raises it again, it is not for his people, this time it is for him, and him alone, a blank canvas for the memories of warmth and comfort and doomed love he carries deep within him.

Every inch is carefully plastered, every paint almost religiously mixed. Every brush he chooses is with a mindfulness, every brush stroke meticulous.

Every inch he covers with color is an apology and a prayer.

Every mural is a plea for her to return.

When it’s covered in long-lost-but-never-forgotten memories - her golden skin, her raven hair, her emerald eyes - he realizes it’s not the same. Her smile isn’t the bright ray of sun he remembers. Her eyes don’t sparkle with joy. Her ears aren’t tipped with a red flush.

So he covers the walls in plaster again, and starts anew.

Centuries come and go; the cities he built grow and prosper. He is no longer feared; instead they ask him to return, to offer guidance once more.

But he refuses; her smile is still not quite right.

And no matter how hard he tries… it’s never quite the same.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why I wrote this, but I'm sad now :(


End file.
